Dear Quilters and Friends in the Industry,

In light of the many changes in the industry and in response to some extremely thoughtful commentary on it (links are at the end of this post), I am compelled to offer my experiences as I was – or would have been – a victim of this turbulence. When I saw that trying to make a living under the old premises wasn’t going to work I reinvented myself, creating my own niche. I’m hoping that my example will cause those who have done similarly to share their experiences, and prod still others into finding new paths when the familiar channels dry up or even shut down. My argument is that the quilting sky isn’t falling.

A little back tracking for those who aren’t familiar with my background. When I was 17 my Mom’s best friend Ann Hanscom made a quilt. The back was a maze with a kitty at the outside and a mouse in the center. (Ann also gave me my first kitty, Fanny.) I was absolutely in love with the quilt and, moreover, the idea of a quilt. Off to the library I went, gathered a few books (there weren’t many then!) and made my first quilt, a nine patch. Or maybe just a patch quilt. Made of the few calicoes that were available back then. Tied no less. A few years later, after realizing engineering school wasn’t for me, a thought popped into mind while looking at a craft book; “I can write a better book than that!” Back to the library I went, learned how to write and submit a book proposal — and that I should expect many rejection letters. ~A few weeks later I received an enthusiastic phone call from a publisher. Last year my 35th book was published.

Opportunities Came from Unlikely Places

My on-camera Career is thanks to rubber duckies.

About 15 years ago I became known for rubber duckies. A&E found me via the internet and a crew appeared in my bathroom to shoot a piece for The Incurable Collector. That gave me the idea of making a one-hour Duckumentary. I found a local producer who liked the idea. Well, not really. We ended up creating a quilting show. Lucky for us, Bernina sent us to Switzerland to shoot an episode of the show in 2006. Before leaving I thought what a waste it would be to go all that way for just one episode. So, since I love cuckoo clocks I asked the owner of a clock shop here in Georgia which manufacturer we should visit. When we arrived at the Anton Schneider Company I popped to question; “Since this is a show for quilters, could the cuckoo clock we see made look like a quilt shop?” The folks back at home had doubted the manager would go for it. He did!

Taking the chance that 124 other quilters would be crazy enough to want one I imported a batch. In the meantime the producer and I had become Quilters News Network. When she was let go the struggling business fell into my lap. And it needed a home. By luck I had met the owner of New Track Media at Quilt Market not long before. He had just bought Fons & Porter. So, QNNtv.com was reincarnated, (thank you NTM!) the clocks arrived and were put in the shopping section of Love of Quilting magazine. They all sold.

Over the years people bugged me to import another batch. But I had no way to market them myself, and didn’t want to risk such a huge outlay of cash.

My time at QNNtv.com was incredible. I produced and hosted shows and was able to bring so many talented people in front of viewers in the early days of video on the internet. Quilt Out Loud! with Mark Lipinski was a huge growing experience for us both and an absolute hoot. Accuquilt chose me to represent their GO! On HSN. And Handi Quilter still sponsors Quilt It!: The Longarm Quilting Showwhich I‘ve been hosting now for seven years.

As you can see I’ve had an amazing career. And made a good salary at QNNtv.com. Certainly not what all those hats I wore would have garnered me in the “real” world. But even as a single female I was able to live just fine. And do what I loved.

It was common knowledge that QNNtv.com along with the other New Track Media properties would be sold one day. And a forgone conclusion that as with any new technology video on the internet would become a commodity. So it was no surprise when QNNtv.com was sold that there was no place for me in its new home. Well, actually, there was a place for me. If I wanted to work for scraps.

Hold Your Nose and Jump: Reinvention

What the $%*# to do?

I had a hard talk with myself about options.

One was an exhaustingly endless combination of writing more books, get on the road and teach, design patterns… I’d already been down this road. Very few people make it doing this, and even if I did the thought of running on that gerbil wheel to squeeze the few bucks out of each of those hats I’d be constantly switching in and out of… it was depressinging to even think about. Yes, I totally agree with Jake Finch that there’s too much stuff flooding the industry. It’s great for consumers, but not for those in business. So some businesses won’t make it. Economics 101. Nope, going backwards wasn’t an option.

nother option was to sell my magical Butterfly Roof House and move to some far off city to work in marketing at a company in the industry. Nope, worked too hard to find and own my one-of-a-kind place and truck free and clear. Moving wasn’t an option.

Or, I could get in my truck every morning leaving my horses and dog and kitties and drive into town to a job in the real world.

The latter option to me was my definition of failure. I’d do it if I had to, but I couldn’t bear the thought.

Motivated by the specter of having to get a real job, I threw the horse manure on the stall wall to see what would stick. I had to come up with something new. I looked at what I could do along the lines of writing since that’s my background, I looked at finding on-camera work. What I really wanted was something that is mine. A concrete business of value that would live beyond me, that could reap more than the hours I put into it.

From the time I designed and brought in my Quilting Rubber Duckie I’d considered rubber duckies a possible future business. So I fooled around and came upon the idea for Dixie Duckies. It took months to refine the idea and come up with the materials, packaging, and messaging. The site is still up and functional. I might pick up the ball again some day, but my other manure splatter had become quite the black gold compost heap.

Cuckoo For Quilting

Meanwhile, a Kickstarter campaign for something or other came across my radar. Whoa! Quilt Shop Cuckoo Clocks! I contacted the manufacturer to find out if I could have a batch made and when, and for pricing. Then I researched Kickstarter, made my video, etc. Long story short I exceeded my campaign goal and placed my order. I can’t express the appreciation I have for each person who bought a clock. I knew then I had a business!

It’s been an extremely tough road since but I finally have a second design, my Backyard Birds Cuckoo Clock (1 year 8 months in the making!) coming out next week and my Quilt Barn Cuckoo Clock is hot on its heels. I’ll have another design or two this year and at least four new ones next year.

This month I was able to pay myself a little bit for the first time. I’m literally living on fumes with every cent I have invested in cuckoo clocks. It’s so worth it. With the business growing as it is and three designs to sell for Christmas I’ll be able to pay myself what I made at QNNtv.com next year.

My truck stays put in the garage every morning as Comet and Reid and I walk past it to feed my friends Harley and Delight then it’s back to the house, to my office overlooking the hay munchers. Ah…

Defining Success: It’s Personal

Now back to the industry. From where I sit it appears that the industry is full of extremely talented and capable folks who could support themselves in the real world, but in the quilting world are doing what they love for a pittance. There’s nothing wrong with this. They are immersed in their passion. My definition of success may not be yours. If you absolutely love owning a quilt shop, but it can’t pay you, does that mean you’re not successful? If you have a pattern business or design fabric or have a long arm business, but couldn’t support your family without a spouse, do you feel successful? What matters is your own personal definition of success.

As some wise person said, change is constant in our lives. So I wasn’t surprised when I saw the writing on the wall for me in the industry. It changed, so I changed. I saw that change as an opportunity. (Even though I cried for at least a full year while tossing manure at the wall. Facebook friends you have no idea what a comfort you were that I wasn’t alone.) I’m thrilled that in reinventing myself under my terms of success I

1. I got to keep working at least in some way in the world of quilting and

2. that I inadvertently found a way to support quilt shops.

A New Revenue Stream for Quilt Shops

Yes, support quilt shops. (This is a plug but for those who know me it’s really a come-on-folks-let-me-help-you!) There’s a lot of talk about supporting quilt shops versus buying fabric online to save money, etc. And that for shops the solution to the changes such as competition from online is to differentiate oneself: Emphasize education and service, become a dealer for long arm or sewing machines, offer block of the month programs and the absolutely brilliant Row by Row Experience, etc. In other words do something different.

Here’s my something different for quilt shops.

People kept saying, “You’re selling your clocks to quilt shops, right?” No. A quilt shop buying a $400 clock, and another to hang, having to bring their staff up to speed on cuckoo clocks… not possible.

The shop puts the clock in their newsletter or on their web site or blog.

One of the shop’s customers clicks on the hyperlinked clock photo/copy.

They arrive on my site and buy the clock.

The software on my site records the sale.

I ship the clock to the customer.

I send the shop a fat and juicy PayPal payment.

There you have it! A new revenue stream that requires no investment, no stocking a product, no fulfillment, and no customer service.

Before she retired Mary Ellen Von Holt ran the clock in the Little Quilts newsletter. She sold five of them. I don’t know the margin on fabric, but that amounts to hundreds of yards that she would have had to buy, stock, and cut. Instead all it took was her web master dropping a photo and a short blurb in her newsletter. About the same time it would have taken to cut a yard of fabric for a customer.

The Quilting Sky Isn’t Falling

So I stumbled upon a way to market my cuckoo clock and for shops to make some ridiculously easy money while putting smiles on their customers’ faces. This is one of those something different things that shops can do for their bottom line. What a win! It’s the kind of inventive thinking I’m looking for in the industry.

Nope, the sky isn’t falling. The quilting world is simply changing, and full of opportunities. I was nutty enough to think cuckoo clocks might work. And crazy enough to take the chance. To those who feel the rug being pulled out from under them, what pieces are you going to patch together to create your balloon that will lift you into the future?

Waving to y’all from the farm in North Georgia,

Jodie

P.S. Each of the following articles/posts offers a perspective on the state of the industry: (Frankly, with such apt, creative minds what are we worried about?)

]]>http://itsarubberduckieworld.com/when-the-quilting-sky-seems-to-be-falling-stitch-up-a-patchwork-balloon/feed/1Watch Jodie Davis on Home Factory at the Only Rubber Duckie Factory in the US !http://itsarubberduckieworld.com/watch-jodie-davis-on-home-factory-at-the-only-rubber-duckie-factory-in-the-us/
http://itsarubberduckieworld.com/watch-jodie-davis-on-home-factory-at-the-only-rubber-duckie-factory-in-the-us/#respondFri, 05 Jun 2015 14:49:48 +0000http://itsarubberduckieworld.com/?p=2281Watch Jodie Davis on Home Factory!

10 PM June 13, 2015 on A&E’s FYI Channel

Jodie’s dream came true when the Home Factory production team traveled from Canada to the Bronx to the very place where the only rubber duckies now made in the USA are made. She got to witness the process in person. It was magic!

Watch this tease from the show:

]]>http://itsarubberduckieworld.com/watch-jodie-davis-on-home-factory-at-the-only-rubber-duckie-factory-in-the-us/feed/0Farewell and Greetingshttp://itsarubberduckieworld.com/farewell-and-greetings/
http://itsarubberduckieworld.com/farewell-and-greetings/#commentsMon, 04 May 2015 20:09:00 +0000http://itsarubberduckieworld.com/?p=2219
Quilting has been good to me.

Exceptionally so.

For my entire adult life, the industry has been my life, my persona. Since I was sixteen I have identified myself with these words: “I am a quilter.”

But that has changed. This is the first year in decades that I won’t be at International Quilt Market.

Beginnings

I recall being at a consumer show, Lancaster I think, with my friend Kathy Semone. A reporter from a local station was interviewing, asking about this phenomenon of quilting with the proverbial question, “Isn’t quilting a bunch of old ladies gossiping?” Kathy said, “Ask her, Jodie Davis, she has a dozen quilting books out.” The person looked at me dismissively and said, “You’re not old enough.”

It took a long time to be taken seriously.

My first International Quilt Market was thanks to Martingale. I knew no one. Then, after a Market or two I knew a few people and spent way too long in their booths. Over time I have made countless friends in the industry, many long-time dear friends who make my heart hurt with love.

QNNtv.com

After writing a bunch of books and teaching, rubber duckies led me to the on-camera path where, instead of creating the Duckumentary I was after, I was waylaid by quilting. QNNtv.com to be exact.

QNNtv.com pioneered video for quilters. The debut of the network predated You Tube’s rise. Imagine what it was to be able to turn quilting on anytime! Sue Ann Taylor started the network with Multicast Media in Smyrna Georgia as an example of their capabilities. She and I had been working on a series, “Friends in the Bee”, where I cut my teeth at hosting a show. When she was let go from Multicast they called me at the suggestion of a salesperson and asked me to oversee the network. For eight months I drove into the city every day and tried to make it work. The model was based upon advertisers paying the freight. As other early online video startups discovered, the model wasn’t working.

I’d been working for no pay when I was told the lights were about to go off. I drove home balling. Along the way I had a big bad talk with myself in my truck. “Why are you beating your head against a wall? Your husband makes a couple hundred thousand dollars year. You don’t need to work, never mind for nothing!” I let it go. “But quilters love it. They can’t get quilting video anywhere else.” In that thirty-six miles I talked myself into and out of it and ultimately let QNNtv.com go. I stopped crying. I drove home numb. Was over it. Relieved.

And then I remembered meeting…

I sent an email. My phone rang. Within no time QNNtv.com had a new home.

A Great Ride

QNNtv.com was a wonderful ride for over six years. I produced and hosted series including “Quilt Out Loud!” with (the dearest of souls) Mark Lipinski and “Quilt It! The Long arm Quilting Show” (Thank you Handi Quilter and Brenda Groelz, whom I met online before there was an internet.) which is on-going. It gave me incredible opportunities to work with great TV crews and producers, sponsors, and, most importantly, to give back to quilting. I am extremely grateful.

Fast Forward

Back that bit about letting go.

This time the lights are off for me for QNNtv.com. The landscape has changed and thus my value in quilting has changed. It’s time to let go.

The reality of this hit home about a year ago. New Track Media sent me to Market as usual. But “Quilt Out Loud” was cancelled and there weren’t going to be any new series on QNNtv.com. I had no business at Market. Yes, I could get a deal with any publisher, and perhaps a fabric company. But, would this be enough to pay the household bills, me a solo act?

Checking in with a friend who is very successful in the quilting work, I was bolstered. For a few minutes. Yes, I could write book after book, become proficient at fabric design and create multiple lines a year, travel several times a month to teach, and crank out free, free, free content to promote it all… and feed myself, working non-stop. Maybe. In reality, as yet another designer I could make more working at an entry level job in corporate America.

Or, another option I considered, would be to go into marketing within the industry. Move. Work in an office. No thanks.

I went to Market to say goodbye.. Other than the fact that I had history with a zillion fabulous people there I didn’t belong there anymore. And so I made the rounds, visiting.

My horses have taught me that they are my mirror. When something doesn’t work, it isn’t them, it’s me. And so it went with my rounds. I felt like a blank slate. I had no agenda. Which with horses is the only time you can hear their message. I wasn’t angry; I wasn’t even sad. The message I got time after time was about what I had done for others, what I meant to people. I received unsolicited compliments about my character and integrity. I will stop there, but you can see that my purpose in writing this is as a lesson to the next generation: Be genuine. The hard road is the only road. Be yourself. And don’t expect a damn thing.

The Road Ahead

My conclusion a year ago was that it’s time to invest myself in something that is not only unique to me, but also rewards me well. I have been after all, an itchy independent entrepreneurial type from as early as I can remember. But what to do?

Quilting gave me a great jumping off point that, thanks to the prodding of Susanne Miller, gave me one of the revenue streams I knew I needed. I ran a Kickstarter last year for my Quilt Shop Cuckoo Clocks. It was a total success. I ran another and am now about to introduce my second design. See what I mean about being unique?

And the skills I learned thanks to QNNtv.com and my appearances with Accuquilt on HSN appear to be translating into the “real” word. (I have argued for years that quilting is the real world, so now I have to prove that I can function within the real-real world.) I‘ve been picked up by a high profile agent who is peddling my on-camera talents. So see, it’s a stretching thing. Fear is your friend.

As a third business I am pursuing my mission of spreading smiles. At QNNtv.com my title was “Chief Quilting Enabler”, which you all know means chief smile spreader.

What I have found, including at my last Market, is that it’s a simple act to remember someone. But often that small gesture tips the scale for the recipient. At that last Market I was on the receiving end. Boy did I need it; and boy did it make a difference.

I’m not a proponent of this happiness meme crap that’s going around. Happiness isn’t a planet, it isn’t even a state in which one permanently resides. A smile isn’t something you can plant on another person’s face. Life is freaking tough. (And I practice mental toughness.) Happiness springs from compost. It has a dark side and from that peas and zinnias sprout. In our darkest times a smile or a ridiculously simple remembrance such as a card, can be the catalyst that knocks those gerbils off their well-worn wheels into moist, fertile soil and onto a new, positive track. Smiles are contagious. They change something inside the recipient, if only for a minute. That’s all it takes.

So while I sow seeds of smiles with cuckoo clocks and Dixie Duckies, dear quilting industry friends please keep carrying the torch, keep spreading the sparks of the love of quilting. Quilting is, as you know, magic. Who knows who you will touch along the way, who knows where the road goes? That’s the beauty of it.

Best wishes for your journey, and as always, holler if I can be of any assistance,

How do you get an entirely new business off the ground? Just going for it, head down, forging ahead. And experimentation.

And then there’s the $395 sale from one pin two weeks ago that set me on fire for Pinterest.

But let’s first go back to the beginning…

Birthing Dixie Duckies

Dixie Duckies has been a work in progress for about a year. Actually, long before that I knew Rubber Duckies were my future.A Decade ago I wrote a pop culture book about them that sold 230,000 copies and is still selling. Out of the 35 books I have written, Rubber Duckie has far outperformed the rest of the pack. Obviously I’m not the only one to fall for the charm of our little yellow buddies.

About a year ago I started messing with creating illustrations for a book, Next I made little animated shorts of the duckies, telling my story. I worked with all sorts of materials.

Somehow I ended up with the idea of dressing the Duckies as greetings, much like giving flowers for an occasion, event, or just cuz. The idea is similar to Vermont Teddy Bear Company. (Fittingly, the subject of my first book was teddy bears.) It took quite a awhile, but once I was ready to show my designs I started posting them on Facebook. My friends offered great suggestions, so I honed my first designs. Meanwhile I came up with a name and started building a web site.

Will They Come?

With eight Dixie Duckies designs on my site it’s now all about marketing.

I’ve read a ton of articles and books about Facebook marketing, have run some ad campaigns, started building my e-mail list… the usual to-do’s.

I’ve created Facebook pages for Dixie Duckies and for my other business, The Cuckoo Clock Designer. (My first Kickstarter for the Quilt Shop Cuckoo Clock was a resounding success — and all from my friends on Facebook!)

Google +. Check!

Pinterest Check!

Wait Pinterest…

Both of my businesses fit with the highly visual nature of the platform. Knowing it’s a long term investment, I’ve been posting sayings with my duckies in the images, new duckies, etc. There’s not all that much I can do with just my first clock design for The Cuckoo Clock Designer (I expect the prototype for my second clock design to arrive from Germany any day), so in concert with my site I am posting useful posts such as trouble shooting and set ups info. And adding pins of vintage and new clocks, and cuckoo clock crafts. Lo and behold,week before last I received an order for a $395 clock generated by a pin on Pinterest!

Pinterest!

A $395 sale from a single pin? I was, naturally, suddenly engrossed in reading case studies and articles about Pinterest marketing. I set up rich pins. But what I found even more fascinating was promoted pins. I had read about being early in on other platforms, particularly Facebook, and how those businesses got a lot of traction. Ah! An opportunity!

Last week I received an email from Pinterest inviting Dixie Duckies to Promoted Pins. Heck yes! I ran my first test immediately, just one ad. Here are the results:

Considering I had no followers to begin with, 8 pins and two clicks is better than cricketville. But what gets me excited is the total impressions. It’s all about brand awareness. Someone is seeing my brand, and for cheap!

Perhaps the least-publicized but most amazing benefit of Pinterest is that it is the first marketing platform where paid media can lead to a massive amount of earned activity. In other social media, like Facebook or Twitter, sharing is a secondary user choice; we read the promoted item and must choose to click a share button. But with Pinterest, a social share automatically happens whenever something is pinned to a personal board. According to Pinterest, promoted pins saw an average 30% bonus in earned (free!) impressions. Since that’s just an average, it suggests that companies that work hard to optimize can see even stronger results.

Pinterest Promoted Pins My Marketing Experiment Begins

Testing Ho!

Yesterday I switched from toe dip to test mode and created two more ads.

It may be a boom, and if it’s a bust it can only be a small one at this price. My goal right now with the business is to prove the model. To sell some Duckies, see how the ordering and fulfillment process works, the custom greetings tags, and get feedback. Do people even like the idea?

So I’m going full steam into Pinterest. Who knows, Dixie Duckies may turn into a success case!

~Jodie

P.S. As I was proofreading this Pinterest notified me that two people repinned my Basketful of Love pin. Hurry up Pinterest and send me an invitation to promote The Cuckoo Clock Designer pins!

The paintings were hung in the gallery, invitations mailed, the press alerted. All was ready for my friend’s first showing of her artwork. The gallery owner then posed the inevitable question; Setting prices on the paintings.

True to the commonly held art-is-above-such-things sympathies of artists, my friend hadn’t thought about such real world details. Nor did she want to. But the starving artist phenomenon provided sharp impetus. And so, she translated each painting into something she could wrap her brain around: Car payments.

“I will part with this one for two car payments, that one for three…” It’s where the rubber meets the road, or where the pain of parting with something you lovingly created is outweighed by the necessity of meeting the costs of living.

And so it goes that I, likewise, have a beautifully simple measure of value, of trade, close at hand: Cuckoo clocks.

This is the day we’ve been waiting for. Comet, my first Golden Retriever (mix) foster (I failed fostering!), passed the last of his vet tests. He came through heart worm treatment with flying colors. His silky coat is growing back in way beyond the expectations of the vet. And he has now had two clean skin scrapes, so the mange is officially behind him. He’s ready for adoption. There’s no question that he and I are it! So, now I need to pay for him.

Finding myself in reinvention mode, money is extremely tight. Can I afford him? Not really. Can I not keep him? No way. This predicament reminded me of my friend’s story from years ago, making this a very simple matter:

I need to sell four cuckoo clocks in order to adopt Comet.

Swapping four clocks that will make four quilters smile every time they hear them seems fair trade for a Golden who, with his 100`% happy Golden heart, wagging-and-more-wagging tail, and ever-present tennis ball in his mouth, tells me all day every day, “Play ball with me a minute. It makes everything okay. Throw it and you’ll see!”

Ever since Christmas Day I have used these potholders exclusively. Whether cooking indoors in my relatively antiseptic kitchen or out at the messy-by-nature grill, they have been my go-to choice.

Mind you, I have a stack of potholders in a drawer, all coordinated with my groovy aqua kitchen. Nevertheless, these mitts remain at the top at the top of the stack. Ever-ready.

Just like my friends who gave them to me.

Holiday Reality

As had been the case for Thanksgiving, at Christmas my mother, who lives two miles away, wasn’t speaking to me. I know it’s her mental illness, but still, sad. Sad for her to be alone on a holiday so unnecessarily. But that was her choice. I was happy to be with my fellow non-dramatic feline and equine residents at Tucked Away Farm.

I didn’t tell anyone local I was going to be alone. But Christmas Eve Billy Bob (the horse) brought Caspar (the human, although both Caspar and I would argue unanimously in the horse’s favor on who is a superior being) by. Caspar asked me about my plans for Christmas, and I said, “Oh, just keeping it low key.” Judging by the time transpired, no sooner had he returned home, settled Mr. Bob in the barn, and made it into the house, then I received an email invitation from Caspar’s wife Joan, asking me to join their family for Christmas dinner. I accepted.

The Love of Potholders

It was a wonderful treat watching the five of them as a family, getting to know Derek whom I had met only once and turns out to be as sharp and unique as his parents and sister.

After dinner it was time for presents. (I hadn’t anticipated that.) Lizzy, the adorable Spitz I have the honor of babysitting on occasion, got the first one, of course. And played and played. And was the subject of many a picture by star family photographer Hayley.

I was a little embarrassed when Joan handed me a gift to open. But I knew the meaning of it and gladly accepted. The package contained an oven mitt and potholder. Simple gifts. Perhaps even something she conjured up so as to not leave me out. It was the thought that mattered. That I matter to them.

And that thought continues on. Every time I cook.

There’s that saying about choosing one’s own family. But this is a case of a family choosing me. Choosing me to share with them a day of great meaning. Especially to them, the family of Pastor Caspar McCloud.

I cherish that mitt and potholder. They reminded me tonight that true family, true friends, are always there. All I have to do is open that bottom right hand drawer by the cooktop to be reminded. To be hugged.

I love manure. To me, manure signifies that all is right with my world. Manure is the cycle of life. When it comes out of the horse I know all is well with the horse. When I spread it in the fields and the grass grows strong, I know my horses are nurtured. The cycle of life continues.

The Gift of Manure

I was horseless, living in a subdivision with my then husband. All I wanted for Christmas was a truck to head my way with a big pile of black garden gold. No diamonds please. No pearls thank you very much. I got my wish. That delicious dark chocolate cake of a pile dumped at the top of the driveway was the greatest, most glorious gift ever!

Kitchen Compost

Several years later it was time to have the cabinets built for my kitchen in my very own fantabulous Butterfly Roof House. I had Greg the Cabinet Maker create a counter-to-kickboard drawer to the left of the sink, underneath where I’d be cutting vegetables. At the bottom, a shelf for stuff, but the top part was the important feature. There, he inserted a piece of wood a few inches below the counter. With a hole cut in it. Ah, the perfect home for my compost bucket! When chopping fruits and veggies, I open the drawer and simply scrape the peelings and seeds and skins right in the bucket. Every few days it’s out to the compost pile bucket in hand, where these nutrient-rich kitchen scraps join the manure and shavings and plant trimmings to become glorious rich brown stuff. Gold strike!

Horses: The Manure Gods

Call me nuts, or perhaps simple, but I absolutely love picking up manure from the arena where the horses hang out when not pastured. And I love cleaning stalls. As I drive the manure wagon out to the pasture or garden or compost pile to spread or dump it, I imagine all those happy earthworms, the soil texture improving, and all that lovely slurp-luscious grass the horses will be enjoying.

I feed the horses, the manure feeds the soil, and the soil feeds the grass, which feeds the horses, which…

Ah, the cycle. All is well.

But There’s More to Manure

Oh yes there’s more. Manure is no one-trick pony. Manure feeds more than the soil; it feeds my soul. A simple replacement of a vowel — I’m positive that’s not accidental – has huge meaning.

Off I zoom to the airport headed to shoot TV, super-charged with so much going on: being on on camera, a tight production schedule to juggle, sponsors’ needs to attend to, and guests to help shine… Quite the hubbub of energy!

Upon my return, the sixty mile drive home from the airport leads me to the quarter-mile paved lane through the woods that is my driveway.

And a healthy dose of humility. All of that soaring and achieving needs balancing — or we can’t get enough soaring and achieving. And inevitably crash. We need grounding. We need time in a place for our roots to worm their way down. To me, I need the soul of manure. As I feed the soil with it, it feeds me. Being a facilitator to that cycle of life grounds me.

Meg Cox shared a post on Facebook about her guiding word for 2014: “legacy.” Her choice is oh-so appropriate, considering she is the expert on family traditions. In true Meg style, she then invited friends to share their New Year’s word-to-live-by.

As an exercise it’s a great opportunity to pause and reflect; collect. And at this point 29 folks have done just that. Including Jamie Fingal whose word is “clarity” and Karen Lieberman and Weeks Ringle who both chose “focus.” Weeks wrote, “I do my best work when I ignore the negativity out there and who’s doing what. Bill and I try to do our best work and ignore anything that doesn’t contribute to it.”

Which immediately cued my focus word (or more correctly, idea in object form) to march front and center before me: Rose-Colored Glasses.

Rose-Colored Glasses in a Rubber Duckie World

Before you get that sicky-sweet saccharine taste in your mouth, relax, no Pollyannas here. Although I’ve been accused of being one –an intended insult that brought total clarity in an “Aha!” moment.

You see, I had this boyfriend years ago who accused me of living in a “Rubber Duckie World.” I was taken aback. “He’s calling me a Pollyanna!” Then it struck me: It was a great thing. I did live in my very own, unique, self-created world with a bathroom (and heart) full of rubber duckies. I didn’t see the world as those “regular” folks around me did. In fact at that time, in a period of regrouping after a setback, I was just getting to a point of the outside reflecting the inside again. I booted him and set about nurturing that Rubber Duckie World. And have never looked back. What a gift he gave me.

It’s All About the Bubbles

For me rose-colored glasses are the physical form of exactly what Weeks is saying. They are filters. While mine share some attributes of the commonly understood definition, for example from the American Heritage Dictionary:

Cheerful or optimistic, especially to an excessive degree: took a rose-colored view of the situation.

With an unduly cheerful, optimistic, or favorable view of things: see the world through rose-colored glasses

my rose-colored glasses are all about reality. I don them with intention. For me they function as bubble sorters.

This little slide show tells the story. (Click to go to my home page to watch it.)

Whether our tub is half-full or half empty doesn’t matter. It’s what we do with the people, places, ideas, opportunities, emotions, lessons, etc., etc. in life—the bubbles—that does matter. Rose-colored glasses perched on my nose, I choose which bubbles to catch to fill my tub and let the rest float on by. Bye bye! It’s not that I don’t see those others, it’s that my eye wear is the prescription I need to provide focus. My rose-colored glasses are the gatekeeper of my Rubber Duckie World.

And so, my guiding light for 2014 is my rose-colored glasses.

P.S. That ever-clever Amy Milne chimed in to Meg’s post with “hydrate.” Love, love, love that! Bubble baths are part of that Amy! (Bet you hadn’t thought of that!)

Yup, that’s me. Sounds silly but bear with me. We all have them. Those smacked-in-the-head moments when reality shifts. Or, more correctly, we catch up with reality. It’s especially surprising when it’s something about yourself, something staring you right in the face, but didn’t acknowledge. An instantaneous change in how you perceive yourself. That’s what just happened to me.

A little background in the form of some resume-ish lines:

By any measure I suppose you’d count me a success. The internet TV station I championed has found a happy home and is thriving. I host two monthly how-to series in my area of expertise. I co-hosted a monthly off-the-wall lifestyle series for four seasons with the amazing Mark Lipinski. (Look him up and you will love him too.) I produced and produce these shows start to finish. I present product on HSN. I am about to start co-hosting a PBS show. I realized my dream of becoming a cuckoo clock designer via a filming trip to the Black Forest and sold over 150 of my Quilt Shop Cuckoo Clocks. Then I followed suit with my Quilting Rubber Duckie, making my hugest dream a reality: I am a Rubber Duckie Designer. In the meantime, I have authored 35 books.

“What? Thirty-five books?”

Yes, it does sound impressive. Not so fast. Read on for the slap in the head.

I’ve spent most of my adult lifetime writing how-to books for quilters and crafters. Two a year at least; a hearty pace. My particular niche, the quilting industry, has been especially kind to me. I love what I do and it seems to love me.

It’s Rubber Duckie Time!

Of course, there’s no straight, simple line in life for a multidimensional soul. All along there’s been something else, waiting. Patiently. And when I’d take a moment to look that way, a shy little half circle of a winged wave would greet back. “I’m here.” Waiting. Patiently.

Who? What? It’s the “who” who when I was twenty-five told me, “Of course you can write a book. Don’t listen to all that nonsense about rejection slips.” The first publisher queried snatched it. It’s also the “Who” who got me on the road to my on-camera career.

You see, it’s all about the rubber duckie. More correctly, Rubber Duckie. There are rubber duckies and then there is Rubber Duckie. She is my muse. I think she may be the adult incarnation of my imaginary childhood friend Mr. Gillins. No matter. She is and seems to have always been there. It is she who got me doing TV a dozen years ago.

I had become known as a rubber duckie collector and lover and was asked to be on A&E’s Incurable Collector. At the time I’d been on plenty of sewing shows and was told I did great, but I just wasn’t feeling it. When the producer and the camera and sound guys sandwiched themselves into my bathroom with me and that little red camera light came on I felt what my family and friends had seen. It was obvious that it was the subject, my muse that made me shine. Then and there I knew on-camera was where I was meant to be.

Wouldn’t you know though, that my pursuit of doing a Duckumentary lead me down another route? In my quest to find a way to make that dream a reality, every time I gave my credentials, the response was “Let’s do a quilting show!” So I did, and another, and another, and so on. It’s amazing fun. But there my sunny yellow buddy remains, cheering me on, her stories untold. As she has enabled me to create the world I want to live in, my Rubber Duckie World, she has been the actual creator of it.

It’s time to share that. So that’s what I’m doing the past year. Pushing everything else to the far side of my desk to tell the stories my little muse has been using as instruction enlightenment.

Instead of writing production books for shows, now my fingers are turning what’s in my brain into words, into thoughts, into paragraphs, into pictures.

Rather than designing a quilt and it dictating the words, my words come from seemingly thin air. And there’s the magic. It’s hard, soulful work. Rubber Duckie work.

Now that I am immersed in my own new personal chapter I have found that not only is my subject different, the actual work is as well. I’m writing!

There’s Writing…

Think about it. With how-to books I would come up with an idea for a project, sketch it out, make the patterns in Corel Draw, print them out, stitch them up, test, and redo the patterns if need be. Only then when I had a finished product would I write up a materials list and the how-to steps. I suppose that writing how-to steps is writing. But there’s writing and then here’s writing. The only creative writing aspect to the writing were the little descriptive intros to the projects. Descriptive being the operative word. So you see… I was designing and sewing. And then doing a tiny tad of descriptive writing.

Which is why I suddenly envisioned this headline: Thirty-Five Time Author Discovers She’s Not a Writer.

Today it’s all about thought, concept, ideas. It’s all about these characters, those dear beings wishing to be known. It’s about sharing the stories of rubber duckie designers. It’s about the story of rubber duckie manufacturing coming back to American shores. It’s the stories my dear friend Lee Warhurst told. (Rubber Duckies come in human form too you know.)

See, it’s stories. I am writing first, writing second, writing last, writing, writing, and writing. Even the bit of designing I’m doing is dictated by the writing. While bringing my characters to life through words I am working through art mediums and methods to illustrate them and their adventures visually. However I end up creating the illustrations, the stories of the characters come first, the illustrations second.

… and Then There’s Writing

I have always been a hard worker, but this new variety of work rather stumped me at first. I had to come up with a new routine. Things, as in designs, don’t dictate projects and shape the day anymore. It’s all words. It’s isn’t twelve projects in a book that decides my progress, its words, words, words all day long.

It never occurred to me not to describe myself as a “writer.” How many times have I filled in that “job description” box with the word “writer”? I’m sure no one would argue that I wasn’t one. But as in all cases there are writers and there are writers! Sure that cake was made at home, the contents dumped out of a box, an egg or milk added (never made a mix have no idea if that’s the case) but then there’s baking a gateau, soaking it in a liqueur syrup, layering it with a buttercream, frosting it all with yet another chocolate ganache… There’s “homemade” and there’s from-scratch homemade. Perhaps that’s a good analogy. From-scratch writing is from thin air. And requires leavening and combinations that complement one another and a game plan to make it all work.

Now that I’m aiming to be a writer for real I’m finding what that truly means. And I like it. It’s soulful. I have to reach deep into myself every time I sit down at my computer. Stre-e-e-tch! The end result of the process is a matter of handing over a piece of oneself on a platter in the form of a book or a blog post. “Here I am. Here’s my story. Here are these beings who asked me to bring their stories to you.”

So, time will tell but maybe, just maybe I will be able to say once again, “I’m a writer!”

Thelwell ponies have touched the hearts and funny bones of horse people since I was a kid. This is one of the few Thelwell drawings I didn’t find funny at all back then. This is exactly what my fear looked like! See lots more of Norman Thelwell’s wonderful artwork at thelwell.org.uk

It wasn’t and isn’t mine, I didn’t create it, I simply inherited it. Which made it mine.

What am I talking about? Fear.

I had ridden horses into my twenties, when I finally accepted the fact that I absolutely did not enjoy the reality of riding. You see, I was afraid to ride. Not at all afraid of horses, just afraid to ride. I had to let the dream go.

About now you’re thinking, “I know where this is going”: The thing we fear the most just may be the thing we need to pay attention to.

Love at First Sight

Fast forward 20 years to find me driving my Mom to look at a horse for herself. I didn’t want to go look at horse, but I had neglected her since moving into my new/old house I was renovating, so off we went.

Hank was the quintessential old-type Morgan horse, the breed of my childhood. Sweet, calm, and gorgeous. As we talked with the owner he was loose, could have munched about the grassy ring, but stayed right by us. Dear, dear, dear. And did I say gorgeous?

As we got in the car to leave, I made my one and only remark, “That is my definition of ‘horse’.”

I repeat: I didn’t want a horse, never wanted to ride again.

The next day Mom called. “Jodie you own a horse.” Now, my Mom is known for doing spur of the moment nutty things, but this one took the cake. My life was packed chock full already with a more than full time job, travel, and my Butterfly Roof House in which I was starting a new life, my life.

Not to mention the fact that I was scared to death to ride. Oh, I already said that.

Hank the Hunk

Hank arrived at the barn where Mom was boarding her miniature horses. In addition to being gorgeous, and dear, and sweet, he was as quiet as a horse can be while still breathing. Nothing bothered him. What they call a beginner’s horse any child can ride.

The first few times I rode, Mom led me in the ring. Led us in the enclosed ring! For my first “trail rides” she led Hank just outside of the ring. On the horse that moved slowly, and never took a wrong step. I was nervous every time I drove to the barn. And ecstatic when I dismounted.

The next thing I knew I was designing a barn to complement my Butterfly Roof House and bulldozers were creating a ring and a pasture from my 6 ½ acres. The Butterfly Roof House had become The Butterfly Roof House at Tucked Away Farm complete with Hank the Hunk and three miniature mares. Horses, the most unexpected and the best thing that ever happened to me. Though it took me a long time and gallons of tears and hours of queasiness and lots of, “Why am I doing this?” to understand that.

Harley Horse

A second horse arrived on the scene. As soon as the next “Mom’s horse” stepped off the trailer she gasped, “He’s huuuuuge!” Put two horses under the Jodie column.

As Damn Yankees Harley was an unknown to us: a Tennessee Walker. Who, so I quickly discovered, paced. Not the smooth gaited stride Walkers are adored for. No, a jarring, horribly uncomfortable gait.

I started out sitting on Harley praying that he would just, please, please take care of me. And he did. It didn’t help that as a Tennessee Walker his regular walk is faster than my friend’s horse’s trot. Eventually I got used to it. (On the ground I loved it. “Finally another being who walks as fast as I do!”)

Slowly I progressed in the ring and then to riding outside of it. One day as I ventured to loop around by the lake below the barn, off the track around the pasture (the “Peripherique”) which had become my expanded safety zone, I found myself not looking for boogey men in the bushes. In fact, I was enjoying the lake, looking for birds, and humming. Eureka!

When we got to where I always told Harley to turn back up to the Peripherique he looked to the left instead, where the trail continues away from my place, then nodded his head toward me in a question, “Shall we?” I replied by softening my body, with a “Yes.”

He knew. He knew I was ready.

See Harley had been everywhere and done everything. So I had nothing to fear in him. The demons were in my imagination.

What’s so amazing is that as I have gained confidence he has let up on the baby sitting. It’s almost as if he’s asking me to take the leadership role.

Horses want to feel okay. Prey animals, their flight instinct reigns supreme. Although it’s not quite that simple. Horses live within a herd. And within that herd is a hierarchy. The top horse isn’t usually the stallion, as one would presume. It’s a wise mare. She earns her position by being trustworthy. Each horse in the herd looks to the lead mare for guidance. If she says blink you blink, and I mean now! Horses just want to feel okay. They want to follow the lead mare. Which is what Harley wanted all along: for me to be leader, to make everything okay for him.

How Did I Do It?

Knowing fear is unfounded is one thing; doing what you fear is another. Ni magic wand will wish it away. So what did I do?

Just do it. If even for 5 minutes. I got on my Harley horse every day I possibly could. Each night I went to bed thinking “I’m going to ride down by the lake today” Each morning I came up with a million the-dog-ate-my-homework excuses. But each and every day possible I made myself “just get on.” If I could just get on him in the ring and walk around a few times, it was a step, and if not a step forward I wasn’t sliding back. Funny thing is, once I got on and got absorbed in it, 5 minutes became 20…

Sing! When I got my nerve up to ride around the outside of my pasture, the “Peripherique”, I fought my body to unclamp. “Breathe!” I forced myself not to perch forward. Every other minute I had to remind myself. And I sang. “Mary had a little lamb, little lamb…” I betcha Harley can sing it now too. Yes, lying in bed the night before, I would think “Harley is so good and so trust worthy, I can go around the lake tomorrow.” But tomorrow would come and I would find my nerves had returned, so rather than not ride I would go around the Peripherique again that day. #1 above: Get on the horse every day possible!

And when I did make a step back I didn’t beat myself up. At first it was difficult but then I decided even if today I was too scared to ride around the upper pasture as I had planned the night before, I got on and I rode around the Peripherique, or rode bareback in the ring. Hey, I was riding!

There’s no schedule; this is no competition. If all I can ever do is ride around my property, hey, that’s more than I ever imagined I could do.

Visualization: We’re going to ride down that hill and this is what it is going to feel like, the horse under me, my seat unclamped, following Harley’s movement side-to-side. The feel of the sun, the smell of the wet earth after a rain… It works for big athletes; it works for us.

This one I don’t recommend:

It takes a good deal of physical courage to ride a horse. This, however, I have. I get it at about forty cents a flask, and take it as required. ~Stephen Leacock

Self-Awareness vs Presence

As it turns out, that’s the tool I used to fend off the fear; being present. It isn’t easy, especially where fear is involved, but bit-by-bit…

Each of those items listed above do two things: turn down the self-awareness burner, and ratchet up, little by little, the state of being present.

The ability to be present is a trait I admire above many others. It’s the ability to be totally there. It’s an amazing gift for a human being to give another. As it turns out, the horses are helping me develop that ability. Because they live only in the present. Period.

The opposite is self-awareness. On many of those early rides I literally could not see or feel beyond my pounding heart. I was a human clamp. My senses were totally shut down. I couldn’t unlock my body. Blinded by fear? Yes, I know what that it.

My first baby step in being present was accomplished by distraction, singing a nursery rhyme. The singing got me past that place at the bottom of the pasture where Harley always got fast and pacey, choppy. I didn’t jump off as I had many times before. I made it back to the barn on Harley’s back, so I was “present.”

And then, as I was relaxed enough — or maybe more accurately a little less clamp– I became absorbed in the actual riding. Harley was pacey, which is a horribly jarring, two-beat gait. So I spent hours and hours walking him at a nice steady four-beat gait to rework those neuron paths and muscles to circumvent the two-beat wiring and get his smooth gait back. Mary’s Little Lamb became a 1-2-3-4 mantra.

Along the way I started to observe how Harley was feeling, I noticed his breathing, I could feel when he braced, I could feel when he softened. You see, I was becoming less aware of myself and in doing so, I become present. For him. I was able to listen to what he was telling me. It became a two-way conversation. And that opens the flood gates for the dance.

Finding the Wisdom of Fear

Fear is neither friend nor foe. Fear just is. It doesn’t go away. It just goes into retreat. I slide back some, but don’t let it get me down. I keep going. Then I make more steps forward than I did back. As Kristen Lamb wrote in a fabulous blog post, “Unexamined fear can be the hamster wheel of doom.” I’m not trying to conquer it; rather I’m staring it in the face and not letting it conquer me.

The trick is to see the emotion of fear as a wise guide, not a stop sign. More cautionary, as in “There’s something to this you need to address.”

And so, there is wisdom in fear. Embracing my fear has taught me and shown me things I never would have known about myself or others otherwise. Never would I have gained that wisdom had I not swung my leg across a horse’s back again. And stayed on. Because staying on has been the letting go I needed. In my case Winston Churchill’s famous quote,

There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man. ~Winston Churchill

has proven absolutely true. I have become more human by becoming more equine.